


He's (Knot) That Into You

by clawstoagunfight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexy Times, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clawstoagunfight/pseuds/clawstoagunfight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t the first time; it isn’t even the second, or the third time. Actually, Stiles can’t remember how often it’s happened now, but he knows that it just keeps happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's (Knot) That Into You

**Author's Note:**

> This is slightly crack-y, so...you are warned. Appearance of Sassy Peter is solely for B, because she loves him. 
> 
> Beta'd by B.

It keeps fucking happening. Stiles is getting so dammed tired of it happening, over and over again. It isn’t the first time; it isn’t even the second, or the third time. Actually, Stiles can’t remember how often it’s happened now, but he knows that it _just keeps happening_.

Derek is fucking into Stiles with a vigor and a ferocity that is pushing Stiles’ face against the carpet so hard his cheek is starting to chafe from the impact, but the way Derek’s body is moving against him—inside of him—is making up for the uncomfortable sensation tenfold. Like this, Stiles doesn’t even care that they are fucking on the floor of his bedroom, because Derek’s hand is around Stiles’ cock and he’s pulling and twisting and moving his thick fingers _just so_ and Derek’s cock is slipping in and out of his ass hole—past the clench of muscles and sliding slickly over his prostate and the angle is perfect and Stiles just wants to cum so badly; just wants Derek to cum inside of him—because it’s been so fucking _long_ since that’s happened. Stiles can feel it starting in a rush, feel the pleasure start to settle deep inside of him. Derek is panting behind him and Stiles can feel the drag of hard nipples across his back and the hot press of sweat-slicked skin that adds more shivers running up and down his spine. He’s so close—so _fucking_ close—

And then it happens; Derek—the _fucker­_ —pulls out of Stiles’ ass with an “Oh, shit” and then Stiles is falling onto the carpet without Derek’s arms to hold him steady.

His ass is still trying to adjust to the loss of the sudden pull-out, and Stiles wants to yell or sob or something, but all he says is “What the actual _fuck_?” He is glaring at Derek from where he is heaped on the floor, trying to turn onto his side so that his over sensitized cock isn’t making drags against the too-rough carpet. He cranes his neck to see Derek, flushed and fumbling with pulling his dark jeans up his legs. Stiles gets a look at it right before Derek is zipping his pants over the still-sizable bulge in the front of his jeans.

Derek has a knot. Just like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. Yeah. Woopty- _freaking­_ -doo. Too bad the bastard keeps getting freaked out by his own body and refuses to put said knot inside of Stiles, when all Stiles wants is to take it, to open wide and let Derek take everything he can from him.

But Derek just tugs on his shirt and refuses to look at Stiles and then he turns and is walking—waddling, really, by the look of it—out of Stiles room. Stiles is left lying naked in the middle of his bedroom floor, completely livid by Derek’s actions and so fucking horny that even after he’s jerked himself off twice, he still doesn’t feel satisfied.

This needs to _stop fucking happening_.

~

Stiles is at his wits end, trapped in a world of seemingly endless sexual frustration because of Derek’s freak outs, and he needs to fix this. He is only seventeen; he’s too young and too horny to keep going without sexual completion from his boyfriend. Seriously. It’s getting ridiculous. Derek needs to get the fuck over whatever qualms he has with _his own body_ and just chill the fuck out.

Stiles tried asking Scott about why Derek would be freaking out about his knot and pull out mid-sexcapade, but _apparently_ Scott doesn’t want to know about the ‘kinky shit’ him and Derek do in the bedroom and ‘I never ever want to know that much about Derek’s dick and your ass’ and ‘what do you mean a knot? Like a rope? Why do you have ropes when you are having sex— _oh my god I don’t want to know_ ’ and ‘why would he pull out? You aren’t a girl’ and really, Stiles should be concerned for Scott’s sake that he had said the last with a questioning look, like maybe he wasn’t sure after all.

So that conversation obviously went nowhere. And it wasn’t like he would be comfortable asking Boyd or Isaac about the state of their penises mid sex. For one, just _no_ , and two, he wasn’t actually sure either of them had ever even had real sex before and he really, _really_ , doesn’t want to know.

After a while, enough is just fucking enough. So he goes to the only other person he can think of to ask—and maybe it shows just how much of a state of desperation Stiles is in to cum, to finally be able to finish having sex with his own god dammed boyfriend, that he goes to Peter of all the fucking people in the world.

This is Stiles’ life, that he is turning to the creepiest person he knows in order to get advice on how to sex up his boyfriend—Peter’s _nephew_ nonetheless—who can’t seem to finish because of the giant, hard swell that grows on the base of his dick when he’s about to cum.

Seriously. What the fuck is his fucking life?

He finds Peter at Derek’s apartment, where he creepily lurks during the day while Derek is out lurking elsewhere—yeah, can’t see the relation there _at all_. Family resemblance be dammed.

“Peter,” Stiles says grudgingly, knowing that once he asks, Peter will make him explain the whole situation and later hold it over both Stiles’ and Derek’s head and make their lives a living hell of embarrassment and awful jokes that will make him want to die.

But Stiles asks anyway, grits his teeth against the endless amounts of questions Peter asks back and then silently seethes when Peter throws his head back and barks out laugh after laugh. He is fucking _laughing_ at Stiles right now, the bastard. Then there are actual motherfucking tears on his face because he is laughing so hard and Stiles wants to kick him. “So wait,” Peter says once he’s caught his breath, “you want me to help you find out why my nephew’s knot is freaking him out so that you can go on fornicating with him and make him put his knot to good use instead of just pulling out and running away? I’m understanding that correctly?” Peter doesn’t say it as a question and really Stiles doesn’t have any response to that assessment, because _yeah_ that pretty much sums everything up.

Stiles cheeks are flaming and he crosses his arms over his chest, giving Peter an expectant look that he learned from Derek, but it seems to have no effect when the older man just goes back to laughing and doubles over with his hands on his knees, “I can’t believe you asked Scott. _Scott!_ ” He can stop mocking Stiles anytime now. Really.

Eventually his laughter fizzles out to some creepy giggles that make Stiles _very uncomfortable to be alone with him and his giggling_ , but then he is speaking. “First of all, knotting is something only born werewolves can do. So you gave Scott a lifetime of nightmares for nothing.” Stiles can physically see the glee Peter gets from that, “Second, have you tried asking _Derek_ about it?”

Stiles just huffs, “Derek is allergic to words,” is all he says, but Peter seems to get it and is nodding in Stiles’ direction.

“True.” He seems to mull everything over for a moment before he turns around and starts to walk toward the door of the apartment. “If I were a different kind of man I might say that Derek won’t give you his knot because he doesn’t want to hurt you. And that maybe he thinks it will freak you out, because the last time it popped up mid copulation…well, let’s just say it was how Kate Argent made her ‘big discovery’.”

Stiles is gapping at Peter, but he turns back with his hand on the doorknob and says, “but I’m not that sort of man,” before he walks out of the apartment and slams the door behind him.

Well, _fuck._

~

Derek is waiting in Stiles room when he finally makes it back to his house. Thank god his father is still at work, will be at work for most of the night, because Stiles fully— _fully­_ —intends on getting good and laid by his boyfriend, so help him or there will be bloodshed and hell to pay. One way or the other, bodily fluids will be spilled. Yes.

Derek greets him in his normal way—by pushing Stiles up against his bedroom door and attacking his mouth with dirty, openmouthed kisses that go right to Stiles’ dick. “Missed you,” is all he says and then Derek’s hands are sliding under the layers of Stiles’ clothes and finding warm skin, pressing and rubbing against it until heat is flooding Stiles’ body. He’s gasping, pulling at Derek’s hands so he can help him get out of his clothes. Derek growls for a moment but then seems to catch on when Stiles removes his flannel shirt in a flurry of movement and then Derek is there, pulling Stiles’ t-shirt over his head before his mouth is latching back onto Stiles’ and the kiss is turning into all teeth and deep probing tongues and it’s heady and amazing—and then Stiles is moaning when Derek nibbles on his bottom lip and he is canting his hips forward and moving his hands to grip Derek’s ass so he can pull him closer and rub his hardening cock against Derek’s.

Derek moans against Stiles mouth and breaks the kiss to trail kisses over his jaw, down his neck, to lick at his collarbone and shoulders, down, to flick his tongue over Stiles’ nipples, before he is scraping his teeth back up and into the crook of Stiles’ neck, then up, nibbling on his earlobe. Stiles moans and rocks his hips, squeezing and kneading at Derek’s ass with his long fingers until Derek groans and pulls his body away only to shove a hand down to undo Stiles’ pants. Stiles shivers and lets his head fall back with a thud against the door when he feels Derek’s thick, hot fingers wrap around his erection. Derek moves and the squeeze of his fingers over the sensitive skin of Stiles’ cock is so good, so nice, and then Derek’s thumb is dragging across his slit and rubbing just under it and Stiles is saying ‘fuck fuck _fuck_ ’ and he can see the smirk on Derek’s face—the fucker.

But then just like that Derek’s hand is gone and his mouth is nowhere to be seen or felt and Stiles may or may not be a little disoriented from arousal, because when he feels the soft puff of breath over his cock, he whimpers. He fucking _whimpers_ because all he wants is this, for Derek to take him, for him to swallow him down and open him up and touch him everywhere and fuck him until he can’t think, can’t do anything but say—scream—Derek’s name over and over again like a mantra. He wants it so bad he can feel his dick twitch and whimpers again when Derek leans forward to pull his dick and balls out of his jeans and boxers before he lightly licks at the precum settled on the tip and Stiles shudders against the door. Derek nuzzles into his thigh, nips at the v of his hipbones, licks at the trail of dark hair that leads to where his cock is standing at attention. And then all at once Derek is on him, sucking him into the wet heat of his mouth with a twist of his lips and an angling of his head that makes everything feel so fucking good and Stiles never wants it to stop. One of Derek’s hands is pulling down Stiles’ pants while the other alternates between caressing his balls and twisting on the base of his cock. Derek is sucking Stiles down and he gasps when the head of his cock rubs up against the back of Derek’s throat. Stiles can feel the muscles of his throat constrict around him, but then Derek’s kaleidoscope eyes are staring up at him as he takes him all in, moving his hands off of Stiles body so the only place they are touching is where Derek’s lips are spread and sealed tight with Stiles’ aching erection. And then Derek is fucking _swallowing_ around him and it takes everything inside of Stiles to not cum right then and there, because, dammit, he has plans.

Stiles only regrets it a little bit when he pushes Derek off of him and he falls back onto his ass on the floor with an ‘oof’ that would be funny if it weren’t for the fact that Derek is glaring up at him with reddening eyes and a mouth that is pink and still spit-slicked from sucking down Stiles’ cock. Yeah, mild regret. But then Stiles is dropping down on top of him and straddling his thighs. He finds the hem of Derek’s shirt and pulls it up and over his head before Derek can so much as protest and then Stiles’ mouth is fastening itself back onto Derek’s and he can taste a hint of himself there and he moans against his lips. Stiles is reaching for the fly of Derek’s jeans with one hand while the other pushes at his chest until Derek’s lying back on the carpet with a surprised look on his face that makes something inside of him flutter, but then he is pulling Derek’s ridiculously tight jeans down his hips and legs and leaves them discarded by his own pile of clothes in front of the door.

Stiles settles himself further up—on Derek’s hips—and their erections drag together in a way that makes both of them throw their heads back and Derek reaches out to hold Stiles’ hips in a vice-like grip and then they are moving together, against each other and the friction is just wet enough to be delicious. It isn’t enough though, isn’t nearly enough and Stiles wants more, so much more—he wants everything.

“Derek,” Stiles is panting as he tries to slow Derek’s movements, tries to loosen the other man’s grip on his hips. “Derek, fuck me.” Derek’s fingernails rake over his ass and it makes Stiles moans, “Fuck! I want—I want you, so bad. I want you inside me. I want to feel you,” Stiles is reaching down and wrapping a hand around Derek’s cock, “want this, want your fingers, then your cock—want you to make me scream your name.” Stiles feels Derek’s cock twitch into his palm, watches as he closes his eyes, watches as his throat works in a swallow and Stiles licks his lips before he’s bending down to lick over his bobbing Adams apple.

“Stiles!” Derek moans his name when he twists his hand just-so and Derek is jerking his hips up and it is almost enough to make Stiles lose his balance but then Derek is shoving two fingers into Stiles’ mouth and Stiles is sucking on them for all he’s worth, getting them covered with his own spit before Derek pulls them out and reaches around to graze them down over Stiles’ ass crack, leaving a wet trail in their wake before one roughly padded fingertip is pressing against his hole and the other is rubbing around it and then Derek is working one of those thick, hot fingers inside of him and Stiles lets out a ‘yes!’ that makes Derek growl a little, but then he is working the finger, moving it in and out and rubbing at all the right places inside of him.

But Stiles still needs more, needs more fingers and lube and _Derek._ He must say as much out loud because the next thing Stiles knows Derek is trying to reach for his discarded pants, but Stiles beats him to it, fishing inside of the pockets to find the small bottle of lube. Derek reaches for it but Stiles pours a little into his own hand before he hands the rest to Derek. Derek makes quick practice of lubing up his fingers before he’s back inside of Stiles’ hole with two fingers this time, twisting and spreading them inside of him. Stiles is panting a little, but then he’s reaching down to spread the lube in his hand over Derek’s neglected erection. It’s hot and pulsing and hard and all Stiles can think is that he can’t wait to have that inside of him. Derek adds a third finger and Stiles winces a little at the ever present moment of discomfort, but then Derek finds his prostate like it’s buried treasure and pleasure zings down Stiles spine.

“Please,” Stiles gasps, “Please, Derek, fuck me. I need it, need it so badly. Need to cum. Need you inside of me. Please, please.” He’s aware that he’s begging in earnest now, and he hates—loves—that Derek can reduce him to this, but he wants him so badly.

Derek just makes a noncommittal sound and then his fingers are gone and he is gripping Stiles’ hips and guiding him over his cock. Stiles readjusts himself until his feet are on either side of Derek’s thighs and he is squatting down above him. He reaches back and aligns Derek with his opening before he slowly sinks down. He takes him in slowly, feeling the head of Derek’s cock open him up and pave the way for the rest of his erection to follow into the slick, tight heat. Stiles arches his back and places his hands behind him on Derek’s thighs so he can gain leverage. Once he’s balanced, he moves, taking Derek further in, moving up and down over his shaft, letting the rise and fall of his hips fall into a rhythm that leaves both of them moaning and panting.

Stiles circles his hips on the down motion, feels Derek slam against his prostate and Stiles is seeing stars. He yells Derek’s name and Derek is whimpering—fucking _whimpering_ —and it makes Stiles move faster, up and down, taking him deeper and deeper inside until he starts to feel the slow ache and strain of the muscles in his thighs and it’s all he can do to keep moving. He’s close, getting closer. He’s been wanting this so badly, wanting Derek, and now he finally has him. He can feel it, feel his balls start to tighten, feel the pleasure race over his body with every passing stroke of Derek’s hard cock over that spot inside of him. He’s ready to come, just from this, without Derek even touching his cock. He needs it. He’s _so_ close—

And then Derek stops. He fucking stops and goes still and tenses every single muscle in his body under Stiles. Stiles knows what he’s about to do, but _not this fucking time_. Stiles moves in a flash, lowering his knees down to cradle Derek’s thighs and reaching out to pin him, chest to chest, so he can look into his eyes. “No, don’t you fucking _dare_ even think about it.” Stiles’ voice is low and threatening and he has a fleeting thought that this might actually be the most dangerous he’s ever sounded “You are staying in me and you are going to put your motherfucking knot inside of me and then we are going to finish fucking and it will be amazing and _I am not letting you pull out until you cum in my ass_ , are we fucking clear?”

Derek is looking at Stiles like he’s never seen him before. His eyes are a little too wide and he’s swallowing hard and blushing just a little—a slightly pink tinge to his pale, darkly stubbled cheek—and he looks like he is thinking about arguing, thinking about finally voicing all of his concerns about why they shouldn’t do this, but Stiles won’t have that, won’t have any of protest or argument, because he just fucking wants Derek. Stiles leans down and kisses Derek with a fervor that makes him breathless, that can leave Derek with no question as to just how much Stiles wants Derek’s knot, and just how much the idea appeals to him. “C’mon,” he’s whispering as his teeth scrape along Derek’s jaw, “you won’t hurt me.” He nips at the skin under Derek’s ear, before he is saying in his most husky and rough voice, “I’m a big boy, Derek.”

Suddenly, it’s like a switch goes off for Derek at Stiles’ words, like a switch goes off where he is intimately arranged inside of him. Stiles can feel it start; feel the base of Derek’s cock start to swell inside of him, feel it push and press up against the walls of his ass, feel the swell of it pull at the rim of his asshole as Derek slowly pulls the knot out, leaving only the head of his cock in Stiles’ ass. He isn’t out for long, though, before Derek is pulling Stiles’ ass cheeks apart with his fingers and he’s pushing back in, slowly, so fucking slowly. He shivers at how good it is, at the blunt pressure of something so large penetrating him, dragging at the ring of muscles and opening him up impossibly wide until he is gaping around the girth, stretching to allow it back inside of his body. It’s getting bigger, unbelievable bigger and wider and it feels _so fucking good_ that Stiles is actually—totally and one-hundred percent—speechless.

Derek is circling his hips against Stiles, grinding his knot around inside of him and it makes goose bumps break out over his skin. He feels one of Derek’s hands snake from his ass, over the curve of his hip, before he’s wrapping his fingers around Stiles’ neglected erection and pulling him just right and pressing his thumb exactly where he knows Stiles likes it best and then he’s moving, grinding back against the knot in his ass, feeling it pull and press deliciously inside of him, the small ache of being stretched so much fading into pleasure. Derek’s other hand is moving on his ass, kneading his cheek before a finger is snaking down and tracing around his swollen and stretched rim. When Derek pushes a finger in alongside his knot, Stiles loses it.

“ _Derek_!” He’s yelling—screaming—his name again and again as the pleasure crashes over him in a wave that makes him shudder and tense and then he is cumming in long spurts onto Derek’s smooth chest. He can only faintly hear Derek’s muttered curse through the buzzing in his ears, but then Derek is gyrating his hips and hitting everywhere inside of Stiles at once and then Derek throws his head back against the carpet and his hands are a vice on Stiles’ hips and he is following Stiles over the edge.

Stiles falls down onto Derek’s chest, panting, trying to catch his breath as the sweat cools against his skin. Derek is in much the same state. A few minutes and aftershocks later, Stiles feels Derek’s hands running up and down his back, tracing the line of his spine. He can feel his cum drying in sticky patches on their skin where their chests are pressed together.

When Stiles can move, he lifts his head up and gives Derek a dark look, “You mean all those times you pulled out, we could’ve been having amazing sex like this instead?” Stiles smacks Derek’s shoulder—because it’s the closest thing he can reach—and says, “I hate you,” but the words some come out soft and without heat.

“Well, that sucks,” Derek says and shifts his hips so it pulls at where he is still firmly settled inside of Stiles, “You’re stuck with me now.”

Stiles groans, but then he’s pulling Derek closer and kissing him—and he swears that there’s a smile on Derek’s lips when he pulls away.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all comments and/or criticisms are accepted and appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
